Three Lefts
by lynxzpanther
Summary: Story of how Regulus might have turned out the way he did- a perfect Slytherin and Black heir, yet the first person to discover Voldemort's secret and attempt to REALLY destroy him. Just a bit of reading between the lines!


_This is something that I've wanted to write for months, and I don't think I really did it justice, but I absolutely love Regulus. =P I know, they mentioned him all of... maybe four times? I just wanted him to have his say, so I tried a bit to explain how he got from Slytherin, evil little brother to Voldemort's secret nemesis. And here we are! Enjoy the story. _

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Regulus Black had always admired his older brother. What wasn't to admire? Sirius was fierce, loyal, and wild; he was Regulus' opposite in every way. Regulus was shy, quiet, and afraid of getting in trouble. Sirius liked to stand out; Regulus liked to blend into the background and become part of the walls. Sirius was destined for greatness, but Regulus was only ever meant to fade into the past, only ever remembered briefly as someone's ancestor, one more name on the family tree.

Sirius had been the best older brother imaginable. He'd dragged Regulus along on all of his adventures, always gotten Reg in trouble and then taken all the blame and punishment, always shaken things up in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, always made things fun. He'd taught his little brother everything from how to read to dropping dungbombs in the soup when the house elves looked away. When Sirius went off to school, Regulus had never been so lonely in his life. Without his brother's creative mind Regulus was at a loss of what to do for fun. Every letter from his brother brought him amazing word pictures of the magical school and wonderful friends, of everything the Black's family house had always lacked. Sirius described a _home. _

Regulus wasn't jealous, but he was very, very impatient. Why couldn't he just turn eleven already? Even at the tender age of nine, however, Reg wasn't entirely oblivious. He noticed the way his parents acted whenever he mentioned his older sibling. He'd heard the yelling and fuming when they got word that their precious heir had become a _Gryffindor. _It was the greatest shame to ever blemish the Black reputation, and although Regulus thought that Sirius was surely the coolest person _ever _for managing it, his parents quite obviously didn't agree.

That was when the indoctrination began. His mother noticed one day, out of the blue, that Regulus looked quiet lonely, and ordered her personal house elf, Kreacher, to play with him. Sirius had always picked on the house elves, but Regulus had found harming the defenseless creatures mean. This had earned him favor and Kreacher was completely nice. He always let Regulus win at everything and gave him whatever he wanted.

Next came the private tutor. He taught Regulus about pureblood history and darker magic, about the Black reputation and what it meant to be part of this pureblood legacy. He filled Reg's head with glorious stories of his ancestors and all of their amazing accomplishments, slowly and subtly encouraged Regulus to follow in his parents' footsteps instead of his brothers.

By the time Sirius came back that summer Regulus was an entirely different person. He didn't find the pranks quite as amusing, and though stories of Hogwarts easily appeased him, a rift began to grow between the brothers, and neither quite understood how to mend it. By the time things were finally adjusting Sirius was gone, back on the Hogwarts Express and unable to influence his brother for one more year.

The brainwashing continued, so gradually that Reg didn't even notice. Looking back, he'd never stood a chance. His parents were true Slytherins: cunning and intuitive, good at studying people and manipulating them. He'd only been a means to an end- their perfect heir if things went wrong.

By the time Regulus got to Hogwarts he didn't want to be like Sirius. He didn't want to be anything other than a Slytherin, nothing other than his parents' perfect child. He ignored his brother in favor of his cousins Cissy and Bella, but not Dromeda: she was a Ravenclaw. It was acceptable, but his parents mentioned that it would be best if he didn't associate with her, so he obeyed. Regulus _always _obeyed.

By the time he turned seventeen and was out of school, Regulus no longer looked at his wild brother as someone to admire, but as an example of what not to become. He'd gotten wind of a rumor that Sirius was part of something dangerous; he was in The Order of the Phoenix, the opposition to Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Regulus took the obvious path and swore his lifelong loyalty to the Dark Lord's cause. If only he'd known…

It took a few years, but he wormed his way deeper into his new Lord's circles. Not as deep as possible, but deep enough to observe the Dark Lord and make a few observations. Tom Riddle was fighting a personal battle here; he cared nothing for the wizarding world. He was completely psychotic; that charm masked the real danger behind the pretty face. Regulus had to wonder how stupid everyone else was to not see it. Lastly, he noted the Dark Lord's fear of death: ghosts, dead bodies, and any mention of dying scared him shitless, though he hid it well.

And then Regulus learned. He learned about Riddle's past in school, about his deceased family and the strange way he'd died. He met with the old caretaker of the Riddle house and heard his account, listening as the man vehemently swore he'd never harmed the family. Hated them, maybe, but never even thought of killing them. He learned about Marvolo and his son, his runaway daughter, the ring, the snake… and with enough time and research, Regulus _knew. _He knew that Voldemort was not only splitting his soul by killing others, but also hiding those fragments in secure items so that he would be nearly impossible to kill. He knew that his Lord was drawn to power, and that he was endlessly fascinated with Hogwarts just as Regulus had been as a nine year old boy, and he understood the way the Dark Lord plotted. It wasn't hard; Regulus was a true Slytherin inside as well.

But he was a Slytherin with a Gryffindor for an older brother, and all of this had made him realize something: Voldemort would never die, and so Sirius and the others would surely be killed. Yes, Regulus hated his brother, but he loved him as well. That bond that they'd shared before Sirius had gone off to school was buried deep, but it would never be erased. When Sirius had run away Regulus had felt abandoned and, though he hadn't talked to his brother in years, he had missed him. If Sirius died, Regulus would never be able to repair things. He would never be able to explain, to apologize, and he would never come to know everything that mattered to Sirius. And everything that mattered to his brother, that made his brother happy, would be destroyed. That was the Dark Lord's way.

Regulus sought out a horcrux, Slytherin's heirloom hidden in Voldemort's childhood memory, and he scoped it out. He learned quickly enough that he couldn't survive, so he went back to his own childhood home and borrowed Kreacher. He looked at him no differently than he had as a boy; Regulus could not harm a defenseless being, no matter the cost. The house elf was entirely unable to refute any order, so Regulus gave himself up instead. He ordered Kreacher to make sure that he drank the potion. He ordered Kreacher to then leave him and destroy the locket. That was all that mattered; _the locket must be destroyed. _

As the pain set in, the delirium, Regulus held tightly to one thought. For all of his past wrongs, he would help his brother now. Two wrongs never did make a right, but three lefts did, and maybe he'd turned enough times to fix things.

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_AN: Okay? Not so okay? Feel free to tell me. =) Reviews are love!_


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